


Lost Angels

by StillRose



Series: SneerVerse [2]
Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Sequel, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-13
Updated: 2017-11-16
Packaged: 2018-10-31 11:27:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10898409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StillRose/pseuds/StillRose
Summary: It's been a year since the world has been free from it's plunge into hell and free from the rule of the vampire who started it all. It's been twelve months of recovery and hunting for the Winchester brothers as they helped to eliminate the things in the dark that still had a taste for human flesh. Now, after several long months of hunting they finally have the big bad himself cornered. What they didn't know there were other forces at work, ones who wanted to bring about a second Apocalypse and the Winchesters were the key.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Unbetaed. Not sure how timely the updates on this will be but welcome to the sequel to There's Always a Sneer in Vegas. I'll be adding more tags and warnings as I go. Comments feed my muse, they're like chocolate.

 

"Sam!" Dean's voice boomed hot and quick through the storage unit like a gunshot. It was all he could do. Firing his trusty ivory-handled Colt wasn't an option. Though if he'd had _the_ legendary Colt he might risk it.  

One bullet from that beauty would put down the beast holding his brother by the throat, but that was a special gun. It could kill just about any creepy crawly, slimy bastard, human munching asshat on the planet. The M1911A1 he was currently holding might put down a few or slow down some others, but a vampire like the one holding Sam? It would just piss the bloodsucker off more. 

"Drop it!" the vamp snarled from around its fangs while simultaneously yanking Sam backward, bending the taller Winchester brother over his knees, and pulling his throat dangerously near the gleaming daggers. 

"Don't do it, Dean!" Sam barked.  

 _Fuck!_ Dean locked his green eyes with the yellow eyes of the monster holding his baby brother.  _What? Is it like_ _the more evil a bag of dicks you are, the_ _yellower_ _your_ _eyes get?_ Golden-eyed monsters had always cost the Winchesters starting with their mother Mary _._  

"Let him go," Dean snapped, his gun remained level. His aim focused dead center of the vampire's forehead. He sunk every ounce of authority and cold rage into those three little words he had. He was Dean Winchester, and before and after _The Fall,_ that was enough to send many creatures cowering.  

The vampire lowered it's mouth over Sam's throat, scraping the tips of fangs over his carotid artery while tightening his grip at the base of the other Winchester's throat. Sam kicked and bucked, but his fight was useless.  

Any leverage Sam might have gotten with his superior height was useless. While he could get his feet under him, the vampire had the superior strength. There was simply no way the thing would let Sam rise up. There was no way Sam was breaking free. 

 _"Stop_ _!"_ Dean roared suddenly letting the gun spin in his hands and drop. The vampire had called his bluff.  

"Dean, no! He'll kill us both!" Sam yelled. 

"Don't," Dean pleaded holding up his hands in surrender. He shot his brother a look. _We'll find a way, Sammy. We also do._  

Except they hadn't. During The Fall, they hadn't. They'd been separated. Things had happened. Things they didn’t talk about. Things _Dean_ didn’t talk about. It was only after The Fall that they'd started being good again. They'd started hunting again. They'd started bei- 

"Kick the gun over here," the vampire ordered lifting its face from Sam's neck.  

"You're dead, you know that?" Sam asked the thing holding him as Dean sent the gun skittering and skipping across the concrete floor. 

Dean glanced around the unit again. Somewhere in this small room, lost in the shadows was Sam's demon blade. It had wounded the bloodsucker earlier. Maybe if Dean could find it he could finish the damn job. 

"Pretty much a prerequisite to being a vampire," the monster chuckled dryly.  

Dean growled and focused back on the thing holding his brother. He'd heard this vamp had a weird sense of humor. _Bad's more like it._ "Now let him go." 

"And have you rush me while Andre the Giant here attempts another body drop?" The vampire shook his head before suddenly sending a boot to the back of one Sam's knees. 

Sam cried out as his leg buckled and he collapsed.  

The vampire jerked him closer, solidifying his hold. 

"You son of a bitch!" Dean yelled. He vibrated with the need to rush to Sam, but a warning glance from the bloodsucker held him still.  

"It was just a tap. No permanent damage..." The vampire let his words trail off to an unspoken threat.  

 _Yet. The golden-eyed fucker means 'yet.'_ Dean clenched his jaw and looked at Sammy.  

His brother nodded. "I'm okay, Dean." 

"What do you want?" Dean asked watching his enemy. He was a reader of people and things. It was just one of the skills Sammy and he depended upon for survival.  

Something in the vampire's stance shifted at Dean's question. It wasn't that it loosened its hold on the other Winchester, so much as if part of the tension in its body shifted and bled into something else.  

"I want _not_ to have a six-inch gash in my right side about now," it said, "but I'll settle for you and your brother to take a hiatus on my trail. Say a month?" 

"No." Sam's answer was swift and definitive before Dean even had a chance to open his mouth. "You think we are just going to let _you_ walk? You who've tortured and killed hundreds? You're at least responsible for that number and more. You think we are just gonna let the one behind The Fa-" 

"I know what I did boy!" the vampire snarled against Sam's ear, a hint of an Irish accent bleeding through. 

"Then you know why we won't let you go," Dean said backing his brother's play. He didn't understand what it was. He had no idea how they were going to get the upper hand, but part of finding each other again was learning to trust each other. If Sam said they weren't letting this monster go, then they weren't letting this monster go. 

 _Though why was fangface making the offer? Exactly what was_ his _play? Torture and murder were his MO, not timeouts._  

"Can't blame a guy for trying," the vampire sighed, the brogue gone.  

"We can blame you for many things," Sam said. "And we do." 

 _Sam! Are you trying to provoke it?_ Dean shot his brother a look then paled as he realized that's exactly what his baby brother was trying to do. It was a classic Winchester move. The one would offer themselves up as a distraction, letting the big bad tear into them while the moved into to finish the monster off. _Only I'm supposed to be the one torn into! That's my job!_  

"Don't listen to him," Dean said. "He's judgmental. Me, I think you have issues. I mean who wouldn't when they go around looking like the butt end of a Sharpei." 

"Dean!" Sam barked. 

The vampire opened up its eyes wide then shook its head. "Okay, we do this the hard way." 

 _Hard way?_ Dean began to rush forward when suddenly he was knocked to the side slamming into the wall of the unit. His body hit with a painful and meaty thud before falling to the hard floor. A heavy weight landed on his torso knocking what was left of his breath out of him. 

Something hot and fetid like a breath from a reanimated corpse blew in his face. Yet, Dean didn’t see anything. He tried to wiggle free. Sharp burning pain lanced his side. He looked down. Claw marks tore through his shirt and under them his skin was split open revealing red raw meat. He'd been sliced, but by what?  

"Dean!" Sam yelled again.  

The older Winchester twisted his head around looking for his brother. He was on the ground now, behind the vampire who looked like it was doing some strange pantomime routine. It had hands cupped in the air like it was holding on to something. It bellowed, then twisted its hand in opposite directions. There was a loud yelp and then the vampire made a throwing motion before it swiveled its head toward the gaping entrance of the storage unit.  

Dean glanced at the entrance but didn't see anything. Of course, he didn't see anything sitting on top of him either. He struggled to sit up and screamed. Three fresh lines ripped open across his upper chest. Panic flutter through him for a second. _The_ _tattoo_ _!_ However, the moment passed. The pain was on his right side, not his left.  

 _I might bleed to death_ _,_ _but_ _at least I won't be some demon's tux to the prom_ _._  

"Sam," Dean whispered glancing back at his brother. The vampire was still in front of him, one arm back behind it gesturing down almost protectively.  _Claiming his dinner? Making sure some other bad doesn't steal it?_  

Sam looked at the vampire then Dean. Sam started to scramble toward him when the vampire caught him up by the throat and threw him back on the ground behind him.  

A howl tore through the unit drawing the Winchesters' focus. As the sound faded a short man in a tailored suit with a sleek black overcoat sauntered inside. He had short dark hair and a well-groomed black beard. He bobbed his head slightly to the left and smiled at the vampire. "Angelus." 

 

ANGEL HAD THOUGHT the worst of his night was over when the Winchester brothers had finally cornered him in the storage unit. They had chased him across three states over the last five months culminating in an attack in Evanston, Wyoming.  

Things hadn't gone exactly as he planned. While he'd heard the younger Winchester was tall, he'd hadn't expected him to have nearly four inches on him! Sam Winchester had the height and reach of a Fyarl demon with a demon blade to boot.  

So while Angel had lured the famous hunters onto the battleground of his choosing, he'd been left with an open stab wound on the left side that wasn't about to heal without some fresh blood. Blood he wasn't about to get any time soon.  

This had left him weaker and slower. The older Winchester, Dean, had nearly taken his head off with a machete before Angel had blocked his swing and wrenched the weapon out of his hand. Then Angel had flung it out the entrance, into the black night to bounce somewhere with a dull clang of the asphalt.  

That's when Sam had closed in with another swipe of the cursed blade, Angel had ducked down, using the Winchester's height against him. The younger man's momentum had him sailing over the vampire and before he could climb to his feet, Angel had seized his opportunity and his throat. 

Things had just been simmering down to a good old-fashioned standoff.  A showdown ending where Angel was going to choke out one brother, drag the no doubt enraged other to a second unit, lock them both up, and then drive off in their car putting as many miles and states behind him before sunrise as possible.  

It wasn't a good plan, but he'd worked with less. 

Yet, he was Angel and he was cursed. He was cursed with more than just a soul, guilt for crimes for which he could never atone, and a reputation that would forever leave him hunted. Angel was also plagued with a strange kind of luck; bad luck.  

Just as he'd started to get an upper hand with the Winchesters, hellhounds had burst into the unit. One had charged in attacking Dean Winchester sending him first into the wall and then to the floor. The other had charged toward Sam.  

Angel had dropped Sam and caught the beast mid-charge. He'd always hated these things, but at the moment his demon surges forward with a bolt of something like joy. Finally, it could kill something! As it snapped the hound's neck, there was a brief sense of elation followed by a more pronounced feeling of regret. The death had been too swift and too easy.  

The soul within the vampire had ignored the demon twisted alongside it and focused on the hunter it was trying to protect. Sam Winchester was crawling toward his brother. Angel had grabbed him by the neck and threw him back on the ground behind him. There were more hounds pouring into the unit, and he could only protect one brother at a time. 

That's when one of the hounds had heralded the arrival of their master. Angel had curled his lip into a silent snarl as he saw him stride into the room. The familiar demon, wearing its favorite human vessel, nodded it's head and smiled at him. "Angelus." 

"Crowley," Angel replied keeping his vampire visage up. He never understood why the demon always used a British accent. He knew the corrupted creature had originally been a poor sod from Scotland, but then who knew how jocks think? They ate haggis! That had to leave a man, or demon, twisted in the head. 

"Sorry ta interrupt your dinner," the demon said stepping further into the room. 

"Dean," Sam called out behind the vampire.  

A hellhound growled. 

Angel slammed his boot behind him into Sam's chest just hard enough to wind and warn the other Winchester. Angel could already smell the thick iron scent of blood coming off of Dean, he didn't need to smell it coming off of Sam. Not when he was surrounded by hellhounds, facing a powerful demon, and was still badly wounded from his earlier fight.  

"Leave him alon-!" Dean started to yell and was cut off mid-scream by another rake of claws. 

 _Yum_! The smell of Dean's blood and his painful cried were a treat Angel's demon, Angelus.  

Crowley looked toward Dean and gave a curt whistle. "That's enough." 

The hound on top of Dean gave a whine but went still.  

Crowley looked back at Angel. "Pups, so full of energy. They get excited, but they're so adorable. Hard ta say no to. Am I right?" 

"Can we skip to the part where you explain why you interrupted me? Or am I going to have to tear apart that lovely suit your wearing, and I'm not talking the Armani." It was easy for Angel to keep the menace in his voice. 

"Angelus, always the charmer." Crowley smiled as he did a slow turn before pausing and settling a hand down on the top of one the hounds by his side. "The thing is, I know you've fallen on hard times. What with the world no longer in a hell dimension and you no longer...well the king..." 

Angel couldn’t stop the growl emanating from his demon. "Point?" 

"But for some of us, the world goes on pretty much as it always did. Deals to make souls to collect." 

"The Winchesters brothers made a deal? With _you_?"  A sick feeling twisted inside of Angel. He didn't believe it, but humans had done desperate things during The Fall to survive. The Winchesters wouldn't have been the first one to sell the soul for safety. If it were true, keeping the brothers from Crowley just got a whole lot more difficult. 

"Well not exactly." Crowley scratched behind the hound's left ear.  

" _Exactly_ what are you talking about then?" Angel said stepping toward the demon ignoring the hound's warning growl.  

"Someone else holds a contract with Dean-O over there," Crowley said using his forefinger to point in the older Winchester's direction. "As for the moose in the corner..." 

Angel turned to look back at Sam, he was curled up around his chest inching his way back to the darkest corner in the room. Angel furrowed his brow. Retreat wasn't in the Winchester's reputation, then something clicked.   _Back toward the blade._ That's the corner where Sam's knife had disappeared. The vampire turned back to look at Crowley. 

"...he's got a bounty on him." 

"So what? You're playing debt collector?" Angel demanded. 

"Know anyone more qualified? King of the Crossroads demons here. Collecting on debts is what I do," Crowley smiled as he gave a small bow. "Plus, I get a percentage." 

"Of their souls?"  

"Well of some souls anyway." Crowley stopped petting the hound and then slapped his hands together. "So, what's it going ta take for you to let these boys go? I'm in a good mood. I'll make you a fair deal. I hear you have a taste for blondes. I can have a pair of bubbly sorority sisters here at the snap of my fingers. Or brothers if you prefer. No judgment." 

 _How about both_ _?_ Angelus's desire was voice was almost too much to ignore. Angel needed blood and Crowley was offering him an easy meal. _No!_  

"Who holds the contract?" Angel focused on the issue at hand using it as a distraction to hold onto the humanity his soul afforded him.  

"Now that would be breaking client confidentiality. I have standards you know," Crowley sniffed down his nose.   

There was a sound. It was slight, like the slide of metal of metal across concrete. Angel suppressed a smile. Sam must have found the blade. 

"If the Winchesters are so valuable, maybe I want a piece of the action. After all, as you said, times aren't what they used to be," Angel crossed his arms over his chest.  

"Listen, love, of the two of us standing here, only one of us has a rank in hell. There was a time was when you had something called leverage," Crowley chided. "But right now you got a hole for your intestines to drip out of, a room full of hellhounds looking for a new chew toy, and the only prospects for dinner are about to be as gone as your rule. So either take the deal I'm offering, or I'll remove your head and leave you a pile of ash and dust!" 

"Oh but that would require ya ta get yer hands dirty," Angel said letting his demon have a little freedom which meant his accent came out. "And yer not one fer dirtin' them dainty little hands are ya?" 

The hound to Crowley's left growled.  

Angel leaped forward, wrapping his hands around its throat before digging his nails deep and tearing flesh. Thick hot blood sprayed over Angel's face. Reflexively, he snaked his tongue out licking at it. It was bitter and unappetizing. It wouldn’t do anything to help him heal, but the Angelus side of himself howled with lust for it just the same. 

"Kill him!" Crowley yelled stepping back away from the vampire.  

Two hounds charged Angel. One locked it's massive jaws around his arm pulling down to the left, while the other slammed into his torso.  

Angel laughed as he fell to the ground. He let the one hound tear at his arm even as he wrapped his other arm around the back of the one on top of him. He jerked it close and sank his fangs into its side. More blood washed over him. The scent of death and the rush of violence rolled through him like an aphrodisiac.  

It had been months since his demon had been let loose. It had been ages since Angel had allowed his dark side to feast on what it craved more than blood. He easily ignored the pain of the hound tearing at his arm as he rolled over, the other hound still locked in his tight grip. He angled his head to rip at the beast soft underbelly. He tore muscle and sinew until he tasted sweatmeats. _Maybe haggis_ _isn_ _'t so bad!_  

The hound howled in agony, the sound dying to a whimper in its throat. Angel shoved it's carcass away before grabbing the other one by the scruff of its neck. Again he rolled until he could use his free hand to begin to pry open the jaws of the other hound locked onto his tattered arm. 

There was another howl. This time from behind Angel. _Sam!_  

Angel wrapped his legs around the hounds back and twisted. There was a grunt of pain and the pressure on his arm eased a little. He pried at the jaws while sinking fang into snout.  

The hound yelped, letting loose of Angel.  

Angel wrapped his good arm underneath the hound's neck yanking it back. There was a quick burst of gunfire to his right. 

"Bollocks! I just picked this up from the cleaners," Crowley whined fingering the bullet holes in his coat. 

Angel gave another yank on the hound and the things neck snapped. He looked in the direction of the gunfire. A badly wounded and bloodied Dean Winchester was standing, barely, with his ivory-handled gun pointed at Crowley.  

There was another yelp behind Angel. He stood, turning around as he did. Sam stood waving his demon blade as two hounds circled him. His movements were erratic and random. _He can't see them!_ Angel forgot humans can't see hellhounds.  

He whipped around and stared at Crowley. "Call 'em off. Or do ya want to lose yer whole pack tonight?" 

"Right. No more need for violence," Crowley said smoothing his hands down his lapels as he walked towards his pets. "I know when I'm beaten." 

"Then take yer dogs and go!" Angel ordered.  

"Of course," Crowley said bobbing his head as he lay one hand one of the hounds near Sam. 

Sam rounded toward the crossroads demon his blade held out defensively. 

 "But even you, Angelus, can't expect me to leave empty handed." 

Under normal circumstances, Angel might have been quicker. On a better night, he might have been able to catch Crowley. Yet, it had to be his cursed luck again because even as he was moving with all the speed of master vampire he wasn't fast enough.  

One moment Sam Winchester was standing in a ring of hellhounds brandishing his blade toward Crowley, the next one of the hounds had leaped forward grabbing the wrist of Sam's weapon hand while the crossroads demon casually reached over and laid his other arm on the younger Winchester.  

There was a slight whiff of sulfur and Crowley, the hounds, and Sam Winchester were gone.  

 

*** 

Dean didn't wake up slowly like a man who passed out concussed from a hit to the head, or too much blood loss. He woke with a start, like a man who'd lost everything and had to get it back _now_. He jerked up, and pain flared through his side and his chest. Pain was good. While to most people, pain was a bad sign, a warning something was wrong, to a Winchester it was hope.   _Most of the time._  

"Damnit, you're bleeding again," a voice growled.  

 _Sam_ _?_ No, that wasn't right. Dean shook his head trying to clear it. He focused. A familiar dashboard was in front of him, it was Baby's. However, he was sitting on the wrong side of the Impala. _Where's the steering wheel?_   

He tried to sit straighter and he felt not only the pull of the wound in his chest but a strain in his arms. They were bound behind them. As the pain subsided he became aware of cool metal pressing tight against his wrists.  He was handcuffed. 

 _Who was driving?_ Dean whipped his head to the left.  

"Get your hands off Baby!" Dean shouted his focus suddenly narrowed down to the overriding indignity that a vampire was driving his car. 

"Who's Baby?" it said glancing back at him.  

"My car," Dean growled shaking his head again. _Where was Sam?_  

"You named your car...Baby?" 

"You're one to talk _Angelus._ What the hell kind of name is that?" Dean closed his eyes to think for a moment and suddenly the memories came rushing back. After months, Sam and he had finally cornered Angelus, the big enchilada and the Holy Grail of hunters.  

He was the vampire who'd caused The Fall plummeting the whole world into hell and then run it. He was the reason Sam and Dean had gone from hunters to resistance fighters to... 

Dean pushed those thoughts aside. That was the past. The world was no longer in hell. Some part of the resistance had managed to not only overthrow Angelus but reversed whatever he'd done.  Dean focused on recent events. 

"Actually it's just Angel," the vampire said. 

"I don't care if it's Mon-el, where the hell is Sam!" Dean stared at the vampire. He remembered. After Sam had disappeared, Dean had fired everything he'd had left into the bloodsucker. It was futile and useless but Dean was beyond caring.  

The last thing Dean remembered as he fell to his knees was the slick feel of blood oozing out his side and chest and the swing of Angelus' right hook.  

"You tell me," Angelus...Angel said.  

"How the hell am I supposed to know?" 

"I'm assuming Crowley took your brother to whoever has a bounty on him. Maybe the same demon you have a contract with?" Angel glanced away from the road to fix a piercing gaze on Dean.  

 _No. It can't be. Not...._ Dean swallowed and turned his head away from the vampire. There were things he didn’t talk about. Times during The Fall he didn't _think_ about. This was dangerously close. 

"Dean -" 

"I don't know," Dean insisted. "I don't have a deal with any demon." And he didn't. He wouldn't. He couldn't. He... _Focus_ _! Think about Sam._  

"Where do I find this Crowley?" Dean looked back at the vampire.  

"Well, theoretically, any crossroads," Angel said. "However, you summon him right now all that's going to happen is that we are both going to get a lot more bloody and he's more than likely going to collect on you too."  

"Fine, I'll take my chances. Pull up at the next intersection," Dean ordered. 

"No," Angel said pressing on the accelerator. There was a slight lag in the engine as if Baby were resisting.  

 _That's my girl._ Dean snorted. "No?" 

"I'm riddled with bullets, sunrise is in six hours, and I have a tear in my side that isn't healing until I get some blood...human blood." 

Dean couldn't help but slide a little farther to the right. It hurt, but he knew he had to be smelling like an all-night diner to a frat boy at three AM on a Saturday night; quick, easy, and unreasonably delicious.  

"Relax, I think I can hold out for another five hours," the vampire said without looking at Dean. 

"What's happens in five hours?" Dean asked. 

"We reach Vegas," Angel explained.  

"Vegas!" Dean paled, and not from blood loss. Vegas was the one city on the continent, maybe on earth that was still demon run. The resistance had made some sort of deal with another vampire, Spike, who ran it. _Why the hell would anyone trust a monster?_  

Sam and Dean had talked about hunting there, but they'd had enough clean-up outside of Vegas to worry about the city. There were plenty of things that went bump in the night all over the country that weren't willing to let the world go back to human rule. Plenty of things for Sam and Dean to put down. 

"Believe it or not, I wish I had a better option myself." 

"What's a matter, the great Angelus not welcome there?" 

"Not exactly," the vampire said glancing away from the road to look at Dean again. "However, if you want help finding your brother that's the best place to start." 

"And what's that gonna cost me?" Dean snapped. 

"Probably a song," the vampire said before focusing back on I-15. 

 

************************

Notes: Jocks – slang word for Scotsmen.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been a year since the world has been free from its plunge into hell and free from the rule of the vampire who started it all. It's been twelve months of recovery and hunting for the Winchester brothers as they helped to eliminate the things in the dark that still had a taste for human flesh. Now, after several long months of hunting they finally have the big bad himself cornered. What they didn't know were there other forces at work, ones who wanted to bring about a second Apocalypse and the Winchesters were the key.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments feed my muse. :)

**********************

_"Vegas!" Dean paled, and not from blood loss. Vegas was the one city on the continent, maybe on earth that was still demon run. The resistance had made some sort of deal with another vampire, Spike, who ran it. Why the hell would anyone trust a monster?_

_Sam and Dean had talked about hunting there, but they'd had enough clean-up outside of Vegas to worry about the city. There were plenty of things that went bump in the night all over the country that wasn't willing to let the world go back to human rule. Plenty of things for Sam and Dean to put down._

_"Believe it or not, I wish I had a better option myself."_

_"What's a matter, the great Angelus not welcome there?"_

_"Not exactly," the vampire said glancing away from the road to look at Dean again. "However, if you want help finding your brother that's the best place to start."_

_"And what's that gonna cost me?" Dean snapped._

_"Probably a song," the vampire said before focusing back on I-15._

**********************

Sam tested his bonds for the umpteenth time, they held fast. His left wrist was manacled and chained high above his head forcing his arm into an uncomfortable stretch. His ankles also had manacles circling them tightly with a short heavy chain hanging between them.  He could stand to give his arm some relief, but he could take only a step or two. For now, it was easier to just sit.

Sam was the hopeful Winchester. He was the one who had faith even when things were at their worst like being held by demons and being chained to a wall. _Must be Thursday._ He let his head fall back against the stone wall behind him and raised his right wrist. _I suppose I should be grateful the demons hadn’t put a manacle around it too._

Pain radiated through his injured arm in a rhythmic pulse like a second heartbeat. It was badly mangled and still oozed blood from where the hellhound had wrapped its jaws around it and shook until he dropped his demon blade leaving him defenseless before the demon Crowley had somehow teleported him away from the warehouse. _Away from Dean._

Having faith didn’t mean he didn’t worry. Who was this demon Crowley? Who was he collecting Sam and Dean for? Where was Dean?

Dread filled Sam causing his skin to break out into a cool sweat. The last image he had of his brother wasn’t a good one. Dean had been bloodied with several angry claw marks along his side and chest. He been on his feet and emptying his clip into the well-dressed demon, who’d just ignored it.

Then the warehouse had simply disappeared as he found himself suddenly in another place surrounded by black-eyed people, more demons, and Crowley. Dean was nowhere in sight. Sam’s stomach had clenched tighter than the hound’s grip on his wrist as he realized his brother had been left behind. Dean had been left with the worst monster in existence, the vampire Angelus.

 _Dean_. Sam tried to quell his inner panic. Under normal circumstances, his brother was the most capable hunter Sam knew. Dean had been trained by their father, had embraced the life when Sam had fought against and eventually left it. There was no one better. Yet, Dean had been badly hurt and left alone with a thing that was known for its cruelty.

Angelus didn’t just kill, he tortured. He delighted in the suffering of his victims in every way imaginable from sexual to psychological. The vampire relished agony in a way the Winchester hadn’t heard of any other monster they’d hunted. The creature had even plunged the entire world into a Hell dimension for seven years.

A loud sound of tumblers turning in a lock drew Sam’s attention to the door on the far side of his small cell. It appeared to be a heavy wooden door, with a small window at eye-level. The window had thick iron bars inside of it wide enough to keep a hand from slipping between them while leaving plenty of room for the demon stationed outside to peer inside at regular intervals.

Sam wasn’t sure what the demon had been watching him for, it wasn’t like he was going anywhere. Still, maybe the Winchester reputation had made them nervous. After all, their Dad had fought his way out of Hell just before The Fall. That had to make any hellspawn nervous.

The door swung open and a petite brunette slipped inside. She had a duffle bag with her, a bottle of water, and a sandwich wrapped in cellophane. She smiled at him. Under normal circumstances, he might have found her attractive. Hell, he might have found her hot. She may have been on the short side for his tastes, but she had curves in all the right places and a mouth that curved into a sinful smile. She walked with a graceful confidence that said she knew who she was. However, that was the problem, she wasn’t who she was because while she was smiling at him flashing big brown eyes that promised a wicked sense of humor, they weren’t her eyes.

Sam had seen this woman in the big _throne room_ , for like of a better phrase, where he’d suddenly materialized. She was many of the people standing, waiting to heed Crowley’s barked commands. Every single one of them had solid black eyes, void of any iris; the telltale sign of demons.

The woman sauntered over to him, dropped the bag by his side, and slowly straddled him. She grinned. She wore a poured on black tank top tucked into jeans which were a tight enough to be a second skin. Her knees were on either side of Sam’s thighs and to anyone else it might look like Sam had just hit the jackpot.

Sam scooted back, trying to shift her off him. He could hear a lewd muttered, “Have fun!” from the other side of the door as it swung shut followed by steps shuffling away.

“Get off me,” Sam ordered the demon wrapping his free hand around her throat and squeezing as hard as his mangled wrists would allow, which unfortunately wasn’t much.

The demon ground her pelvis into his as she leaned forward, pressing her bosom into his chest and whispering into his left ear, “Sam, is that any way to treat an old friend?”

Sam growled and shoved her back ignoring the agonizing pain bolting up his arm. She fell back laughing and shaking her head slightly. She licked her lips.

“C’mon Sam.” Her voice was husky and low, just above a whisper. “What? You don’t like the new model? Was I that much better as a blonde?”

“What?” Sam narrowed his eyes and cradled his hand back to his chest. What game was this bitch playing?

She let her head fall back for a moment. Let out a small laugh then raised it back up and looked at him. “Sam, we don’t have much time here. My orders are to feed and bandage puppy. So quit trying to be big brother here and listen to me. You are in way deeper shit than during The Fall and it’s going to take more than a demon blade to help you get out.  Oh, thanks for losing that, by the way.”

Sam leaned forward and stared at the demon. Studying her, looking for anything he might recognize. He’d never told anyone where he’d gotten his special demon killing knife, not even Dean. There’s no way his brother would have approved.

The demon opened the duffle bag and pulled out some tape, gauze, scissors, and some antiseptic cream and set them on the floor. She turned around and looked back at Sam’s wrist. “Okay, tiger, you wanna let me take a look at that? The supplies I have will do about jack and shit, but it will look pretty for the bosses until we can get you out of here.”

“Ruby?” Sam let the name pass between his lips almost as an exhale, not even a whisper.

“Always said you were the smart one,” she replied as she reached out for his wrist.

“Is that _really_ you?” Sam didn’t want to get his hopes up. Things to be good to be true usually weren’t. He couldn’t believe he was that lucky that the one demon who’d ever been on a Winchester side, _his side,_ would find him once again when demons had managed to separate him from his brother. _Especially when I thought she was dead…or worse._

“Hey I told you, I’d make it through. It wasn’t easy. The torture, the groveling, the...” she paused as she gently turned his wrist to get a better look at the bite. “You get the picture. However, I’m a team player again. Back up top in a new meat suit and ready to go.”

Sam narrowed his eyes. He owed Ruby. She’d helped him out while Dean was lost during The Fall. She’d kept him together, and yes she’d given him the blade to boot. However, he knew she had her own agenda.

Ruby snapped her fingers. “Sam, you paying attention?”

“What do you want?” Sam asked.

“Look just because Angelus’ apocalypse is over doesn’t mean the world is safe. There are bigger players out there. Other apocalypse cards to play.” She took a cotton pad from out of the duffle bag and then a bottle of alcohol. She opened the bottle and poured some of the contents on the pad.

“Lilith?” That had been Ruby’s agenda, stopping a demon named Lilith.

“Shhh!” Ruby hissed as she swiped the alcohol soaked pad across Sam’s torn wrist.

Raw fiery pain blazed through his arm. Sam arched and his back and screamed. “Fuck!”

“Maybe later,” Ruby retorted as she continued cleaning Sam’s wound, “but only if I’m on top. Now pay attention. Don’t speak her name, and don’t even think of it. Not while you are here. You are in a world of trouble, Sam. A bigger game is being played and you are a part of. Right now they need you alive and semi-healthy so we have a little time, but if you want to get out of here you are going to have to start listening to me.”

“I don’t understand. What game?” Sam bit out through clenched teeth.

“I can’t explain now, but I want you to think about your options. You are in the heart of a demon strong hold. You are the guest of Crowley, the King of the Crossroads demons, but not for long. Sooner or later he’s going to turn you over to the one he’s collecting you for…the one…we’re not talking about.”

 _Lilith?_ Sam’s eyebrows shot up. Why would Lilith...why would she want him?

“You are surrounded, your brother is who knows where, and you don’t have any weapons.” Ruby paused, keeping the pad pressed tight to Sam’s bleeding wrist. “But you do have options.”

Sam breathed through the pain and stared at Ruby. What options? What was she trying to say? He shook his head.

“Remember what we talked about when we were hunting on our own? Back when you were trying to find Dean? Back during The Fall?”

“No,” Sam whispered as his skin grew clammy again. Suddenly he knew what she meant. He remembered. It wasn’t an option then and it wasn’t an option now. He couldn’t, wouldn’t!

She gripped his chin lightly and forced his gaze on her. “Sam, you are a prisoner. I can’t get you out of here, not in any Winchester way, but I can help. I can’t force you though. It has to be _your_ choice.”

“Why? What do you get out of it?” Sam snapped. He couldn’t do this now any more than he could then. Could he?

“I told you. I was human once and I have enough of humanity left that I don’t want to see the world burn.”

Sam closed his eyes. Dean would never forgive him. “No.”

Ruby sighed and began swabbing his wrist again. “Think on it, Sam, but don’t take too long. I don’t know how much time you have.”

 

***

“You brought a hunter, here? To _my_ town?” Spike roared. He turned and looked at Xander, “Be a good pet, and fetch me a railroad spike. Time ta reacquaint my grandsire here with how I got my name in the first place.”

Xander smiled, wrapping his bare arms around Spike’s leather clad shoulders. “Nothing would please me more, master, but shouldn’t we hear Broody McBroody out first? I’m sure he wouldn’t be lurching back our way if he didn’t have a good…well at least a reason.”

“Master? You one of _those?”_ the blood-crusted flannel draped hunter said leaning against the black impala parked out back of the _Slayer’s End_.

Spike didn’t need to hear Xander’s sharp intake of breath. His pet had agreed to live by demon-run rules, to live in a demon world, to be with Spike even if it mean other humans looked down on him. Having Xander’s love, having him by Spike’s side, meant more to the blonde, Billy Idol looking vampire, than having his soul did. He wouldn’t have Xander hurt because of hunter’s ignorant attitude!

“Oi, I’ll take the bit of metal to you, pull out your entrails, and stake yer whole stinkin’ carcass out for the coyotes if you even think one more condescending thought towards my Claimant!” Spike barked at the hunter.

“While I appreciate the romantic gesture, master,” Xander said, “uh…ew not a pretty, nor especially hot picture.” He looked at the wounded man barely standing. “Look, can we at least bandage him up, give him a chance to tell us why deadboy gave him the Transporter treatment, before proceeding with the obligatory threats of death and dismemberment in all its Technicolor glory?”

Angel pinched the bridge of his nose.

The hunter shook his head limping forward and nearly falling over. He caught himself clutching the hood of the car. “Look, I get it. Vegas is crazy town. Great. Just uncuff me, give me the keys to Baby, and I’m gone.”

“Baby?” Spike looked at Angel.

“His car,” the older vampire answered.

Spike shivered. _Bloody Americans._ He focused back on the hunter. This was one of the Winchester brothers Lorne had been telling him so much about. They were good, better than good. From all accounts, Spike had been beginning to wonder if they weren’t somehow slayers.

Dean said this was the oldest one, Dean Winchester. Supposedly the better of the two. _Wished we could have danced in the old days._ His demon almost purred with that thought.

“The hunter’s impending bleed out aside, what’s so bloody important ya got dump his corpse and yer bag of flesh on my door?” Spike asked.

“Crowley’s trying to collect him…and his brother.” Angel shifted, pressing a hand to an oozing wound at his side.

“Crowley! That wanker! Oi..what’s he still doing topside?” Spike growled and focused his gaze back on Dean. “You make a deal with him?”

“For the last time, no! I did not make a deal with Crowley! I don’t know this Crowley!” Dean snarled.

Spike fished into the pockets of his long trench coat, then sighed. When would he ever remember he doesn't smoke anymore? Maybe when he stopped having the cravings. “Ya wouldn’t be the first twit ta make a deal during The Fall and it wouldn’t have had ta been with Crowley. Could have been any one of his minions. Sure ya didn’t meet up with some nice bint with tits nearly falling out of her dress offering ya a good toss fer yer soul?”

Dean blinked at Spike then looked at Xander. “Does he even speak English?”

“That’s the problem.” Xander rolled his eyes.

“Oi!” Spike flashed Xander a look, the one that said someone one wasn’t sitting down for a week.

Xander batted his eyelashes.

“No, the answer is still 'no.' I did…I don’t make deals with demons and I’ve never had to offer my soul to get laid,” Dean snapped.

“But you did do something,” Angel replied.

Dean whipped his head around to look at Angel. “I don’t kn—”

“You’re heart rate speeds up and your breath hitches whenever you talk about making deals. You may not have had dealt with any crossroads demons, but there’s something you’re hiding.”Angel interrupted the hunter in that flat superior, but still somehow drowning in angst, tone Spike remembered.

“Why does this even matter to you? Huh? You’re the big bad? Is this like some sort of territorial thing? You got to Sam and me first, so you get dibs on ganking us?” Dean evaded Angel's point.

Angel looked at his feet.

“It’s a redemption thing,” Xander said.

“Redemption! Him?” Dean nearly spit looking back and forth between Angel and Xander. “Buddy there ain’t no amount of helping little old ladies across the street, or saving kittens from a tree that can redeem his sorry ass.”

“I know,” Angel said quietly before looking back at the hunter. “That doesn’t mean I can’t help you.”

“Well I don’t want your help!” Dean sagged against the hood.

“That’s seems to settle it then,” Spike started to turn away.

“Spike,” Xander said softly into the blonde vampire’s ear. Xander’s chocolate brown eyes fixed on Spike’s cerulean blue.

“Pet, I got a bad feeling about this,” Spike answered just as softly. He really did. They’d just come through literal seven years of hell. He and Xander had been through more than their fair share of it, somehow coming out together. All Spike wanted was to spend his days dreaming about his pet and nights making them come true. He had no interested in saving a world that hadn’t ever given a farthing about saving him.

Xander entwined his hands around Spike’s neck and pulled the vampire close. Warm human lips, tasting of cedar and cinnamon covered Spike’s cool undead ones.

Spike let himself get lost in the kiss until his demon was nearly begging to strip Xander and take the human fast and hard over the hood of the hunter’s sleek black car. _Oi, he may wear the collar but I’m the one whose bloody well leashed!_

Xander broke the kiss and sucked in some air along with his bottom lip.

“Don’t suppose yer gonna change yer mind on this, eh?” Spike asked his pet.

Xander shook his head. “White knight here. Wanna see my sword?”

 _Cheeky git._ Spike reached around and slapped Xander on the ass eliciting a satisfying yelp. Then he turned around and looked at the hunter and his grandsire.

Dean’s legs were beginning to shake with the effort to stay upright. Angel looked like he wasn’t fairing much better.

“Right, Peaches, grab the hunter. I’ll get ya a suite and have Lorne send up some Pocklas and some blood.”

“Wai—” Dean started to object, pushing against Angel as the vampire moved forward and wrapped an arm around the hunter’s torso. “I can walk on my own!”

“Master of Vegas says I grab you,” Angel smiled softly helping the man who could barely stand let alone walk. “I grab you.”

“Well fuck the master of vegas,” Dean snarled.

“Sorry, dance card’s full,” Spike said suddenly sweeping Xander up into his arms. He slipped into his vampire visage and growled against his pet’s neck. “Don’t think I didn’t notice someone forgot ta call me Master.”

Spike grinned around his fangs. He could hear the sudden skip in Xander’s heartbeat and could smell the start of his arousal. Oh yes, Xander knew he was going to be punished and he was looking forward to it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry took me awhile to get a chapter out! Hope you like! :)

Title: Lost Angels (3/?)    
Fandom: Supernatural, BTVS; Dean/Castiel, Spike/Xander, Angel/Lindsay    
Warnings: Slash,  **AU** , Post-Apocalyptic, violence,  **non-con** , slavery,  **SneerVerse**     
Rating: NC-17    
Summary: It's been a year since the world has been free from its plunge into hell and free from the rule of the vampire who started it all. It's been twelve months of recovery and hunting for the Winchester brothers as they helped to eliminate the things in the dark that still had a taste for human flesh. Now, after several long months of hunting they finally have the big bad himself cornered. What they didn't know were there other forces at work, ones who wanted to bring about a second Apocalypse and the Winchesters were the key. 

 

**********************  

 _“Wai—” Dean started to object, pushing against Angel as the vampire moved forward and wrapped an arm around the hunter’s torso. “I can walk on my own!”_  

 _“Master of Vegas says I grab you,” Angel smiled softly helping the man who could barely stand let alone walk. “I grab you.”_  

 _“Well fuck the master of_ _vegas_ _,” Dean snarled._  

 _“Sorry, dance card’s full,” Spike said suddenly sweeping Xander up into his arms. He slipped into his vampire visage and growled against his pet’s neck. “Don’t think I didn’t notice someone forgot_ _ta_ _call me Master.”_  

 _Spike grinned around his fangs. He could hear the sudden skip in Xander’s heartbeat and could smell the start of his arousal. Oh yes, Xander knew he was going to be punished and he was looking forward to it._  

********************** 

Dean woke with his mouth so dry his tongue felt like it was a shriveled piece of jerky. He rolled to his side.  _Big mistake_. A dull pain flared across his ribs. He groaned, pushing through the hurt, and sat up.  

It was the second time since hunting down the damned vampire Dean found himself coming back to consciousness. He supposed he shouldn't be surprised. He was temporarily the prisoner of a monster. In those situations if you didn't end up dead, you usually ended up unconscious; a lot.  

Dean resisted the urge to stretch, instead he took a breath and looked around. First he did a casual inventory down his body. His chest was bare except for the large white bandages taped across his sternum and down his side where he'd been mauled by the hellhound. Across his lap was a sheet. 

 _Naked? Or nearly naked?_  It was an old betting game he played with himself back during The Fall. Back when... He took a deep breath and pushed those thoughts away along with the sheet. He was clad only in a loose pair of black boxer briefs.  _Nearly naked then._  

He looked around. He appeared to be in a small, but nice hotel room. At least it was swankier than the ones he and Sammy could afford.  _Sam._  Dean's stomach clenched and it had nothing to do with hunger pangs or the pain from his wounds. Where was his little brother? How was he? Was he alive? 

 _Yes, damnit!_  Dean growled under his breath. He had to shut down any doubts in his head right now.  _Anything else isn't an option._  

Exhaling, he continued his survey. The bed he was on was big, maybe even a king, with a night stand on either side. There was a recliner in the right corner with a tall lamp next to it. Across from the foot of the bed was a large dresser with a decent sized TV perched on top. Off to the left corner was an open door leading to a bathroom.  

Further to the right of the recliner, at the end to of the room was another door. This one was closed.  _The way out?_ Dean stood. To try the closed door was tempting, but his bladder demanded he put aside any thoughts of pressing his luck and seeing what was behind it. For one, this was Vegas and the odds were definitely not in his favor. Two, he hadn't pissed his pants fighting a monster since he was seven and he wasn't about to do it now. 

He turned and moved toward the bathroom. He let out a low whistle as he entered the room. Wherever he was, it really was nice. Hot tub, walk in shower, and a full line of mirrors across double sinks. Hell, they even had the double toilet thing in here. The second one had a longer, more oval shaped bowl, and looked like it had some sort of faucet. There was some sort of French word for it.  _Sam would know._  

Dean shook his head and used the good old fashioned john, though he couldn't help but start at the other one.  _How do you even use that thing? Looks more like something you'd hand wash your_ _underwear in...if the sink were stopped up._  

He finished draining whatever was left of the beer he'd had one or two nights ago, it was hard to say with all the bouts of unconsciousness, before turning around. He walked over the sink and flipped the water on. Dean washed his hands before cupping them together under the running water to collect a small pool. He leaned over the sink and splashed his face. Water dripped over his eyes, down his cheeks and nose, and splashed coldly on his chest.  

Fumbling he reached with one hand to turn the faucet off while reaching the other for a towel. The thick cotton felt good in his hand and it felt even better on his face. He stood, swiping it over his cheeks with both hands, pulling it down like a slow tease at a stripper joint and relishing the feel of soft and plush material against his skin.  

Before The Fall Dean had been an unabashed sensualist. Hey, if it felt good, you might as well do it because who knew if tomorrow you were gonna be the main ingredient in some big and ugly's soup of the day? During The Fall, his hedonistic nature had been used against him, breaking him. After The Fall, he was grateful for the little luxuries and savored them.  

With a heavy sigh he finally put the towel down on the counter then stared at himself in the mirror. He had a serious case of the three-day stubble going on, there dark circles under his eyes, and he was pale enough that his freckles stood out like he was twelve again. He'd looked worse. 

He stood and glanced down at his chest and stomach. Clean white bandage were taped neatly over his chest and side where the hellhound had gouged him. He gently prodded at the wounds and hissed. They were tender, but not as raw as he'd expected. Nor did the cotton gauze immediately start to stain red.  _Stitched up?_   He wasn't gonna look. He was sure it was going to be ugly. _M_ _ore scars. Good thing chicks dig 'em._  

He glanced back at the mirror. His gaze went automatically to his left shoulder. There was the grand-daddy of all of his scars, a man-sized hand print across the whole of his deltoid. It looked like a brand, five fingers and the edges of a palm. Chicks loved scars because of the stories behind them. Dean didn't know the story behind this one.  

He sucked in a breath and reached out to trace it with a his right forefinger. It was a compulsion, this odd need to touch it, especially when he was stressed. He didn't know why. The thing frightened him. It wasn't the adrenaline charged fear that came with hunting. It wasn't the overwhelming terror he'd drowned with while he'd been Ali...during The Fall. No, this was an uneasy sense of dread, like something had gone horribly wrong. It was the pricking sensation on the back of his neck when a hunt had gone south because they'd missed the big picture: the happy Cunningham couple in the matching Christmas sweaters were really pagan gods eating people. 

Dean exhaled slowly and covered the scar with his hand. It was warm, always. Still, as much as the handprint frightened him, it also comforted him. It was a reminder he'd made it. He survived The Fall. He'd survived Ali... 

He closed his eyes and swallowed. He tried not to think of those times. He tried not to think of when he'd been just a raw bundle of nerves endlessly exposed for a demon's pleasure. He tried not to... Dean squeezed down on the handprint. It almost seemed to pulse slightly, like a heartbeat or the faint brush of wings.  

During The Fall, Dean and Sam had been separated for several years. Most of those Dean had been a prisoner. He'd been torn and tortured so much, he'd lost himself. Then one day, he'd woken up free. He'd been alone and baking in the hot South Dakota sun with the strange scar on his arm, but he'd been free.  

He had no clue as to how or why. At first he'd thought it was another trick, a new cruel game to play. Dean had laid low for weeks reaching out to no one not risking the chance of leading demons to any fresh playthings or helping them along in their games. However, when it seemed that by some act or feat he didn't remember, that he he had escaped, Dean had gone in search of his little brother.  

"Sam." The name slipped out softly like a prayer and a promise. Dean shook his head and turned away from the mirror. He exited the bathroom.  

Once again he was tempted to head straight toward the closed door. While he had no issues facing the world in just his skivvies, clothed was always best.  _Especially around demons and vampires._  He quickly skirted his way around the bed and began going through dresser drawers. He arched his eyebrows in surprise. 

 _Spike must be playing by his own monster manual._  Not only were there clothes in the drawer there were a couple of different sets. They all looked to be Dean's size, and something he'd wear; jeans, t-shirt, and a comfortable flannel. His boots were even in the bottom drawer. 

Dean could only wonder at the situation as he quickly dressed, it was so outside the norm.  _Hey, maybe he even left me my gun?_  He didn't another quick check for weapons, but didn't find so much as a toothpick.  _Was worth a shot._  

With a final roll to his left sleeve, Dean faced the closed door. He wasn't sure what was on the other side, but now was the time to find out. He paused a moment as he wrapped his hand around the shiny brass door knob.  _Wouldn't_ _it be anti-climatic if was locked?_  

He twisted the knob. It turned easily. Cautiously, he eased the door open. The door opened up into what looked like a sitting room area with a couches and a bar.  _Sammy, scored the high roller suite_ _._ He stepped into the room. 

"Mimosa?" A smiling green demon wearing sapphire blue suit and red ascot scarf which matched color of its lips, eyes and horns stood beyond the door holding out a flute glass full of sparkling orange juice. 

"Whoa!" Dean raised his hands in defense and jumped back half a step nearly crashing into the door frame.  

The demon frowned, studied Dean for a moment. "Perhaps an Irish coffee." Then it turned and walked to the bar setting the cocktail down. 

Dean followed it with his gaze but remained rooted to the spot. He'd never seen a demon that remotely looked like this thing. He didn't know what it was, what it good do, or what it wanted. He didn't know how to kill it, and he sure as hell didn't have anything to kill it  _with_. However, a shot of whiskey and some coffee did sound good.  

"I'm Lorne," the demon said as it began to fill a small coffee pot from an unseen water source behind the bar.  

Dean arched an eyebrow.  _Lorne._  He'd heard the name before, but where? 

"Spike's floor manager?"  the demon explained as if it were question, a prompt.  "I work for Spike, Master of Las Vegas, your host. You do remember Spike, don't you, cookie crumbles?"  

"Cooki..."  _Damn freckles._ Dean pushed away from the door frame and growled. "I remember, and the name's Dean Winchester." 

"Pleasure to meet you, Dean," Lorne chirrped cheerily as he started the coffee. "Now let's get a shot of morning go juice into you then we're off." 

"To where?"  

"To see the grand sour-puss himself. He's a whole new level of tartness since Angel rolled into town with you in tow. However, since this mess seems to have given Claimant Xander that certain do-gooder spark Spike can't resist, he wants to you see shortly," Lorne explained.  

Dean snorted. He wasn't that thrilled at the prospect of another meeting with the blonde vampire and its pet human, but he had the feeling he really didn't have much choice. Plus, maybe the sooner he met with Spike, the sooner he could leave and find Sam. 

"Fine, mickey up the cup of joe and let's get going," Dean said stomping over to the bar.  

"Just one more thing, crumbles," Lorne said pulling out a bottle of Jameson's. "I gotta hear you sing." 

"You what?" Dean tilted his head and stared at the demon like it sprouted a third horn. "You want me to do a karaoke routine?" 

"Oh nothing so elaborate." Lorne waved its hand. "I just need you to hum a few bars, quote a few lyrics...anything that brings out your inner song bird." 

Dean gave a half shake of his head. What kind of crazy demon mojo was this? "Why?" 

"Because you need Spike's help, and this is the first step to getting it," Lorne said taking a half step away from the bar and crossing his arms over his chest. "I'm afraid it's non-negotiable." 

"Hey, I never asked for it. Angelus...Angel is the one who drug my ass here," Dean argued. 

"Well that certainly sounds like him...both hims," Lorne muttered softly before speaking up, "but whatever the case Spike and Xander seem about to stick their necks out to help you and while some of use can live with a little head lopping most of us can't. So, sing, and depending on what I hear, Spike will decide how far he's willing to stretch those necks." 

"Spike is going to decide how far he'll go to help me, depending on how well I sing?" Dean scoffed. "What, is this an audition for demon town American Idol?" 

"If that's what it will take to get you to bust open those pipes, crumbles. Now sing." Lorne put unfolded his arms and tapped his fingers on the bar. 

Dean sighed. Maybe he was dead. Maybe the hounds or Angelus, had actually killed him and he was once again trapped in some sort of hell dimension.  _A crazy one with_ _cocktails, ascots, and karaoke._  

He took a deep breath and let it slowly. What the hell was he going to sing? He had no idea, but he had to think of something. He was beginning to think he wouldn't he belted out a tune he wouldn't be let out of the room, let alone be taken to see Spike.  

He closed his eyes and thought of Baby. He imagined sitting behind the steering wheel, the windows rolled down, a dark line of highway in front of him, and the sounds of the engine purring around him. He imagined a sunset on the horizon and the smell of night close behind. He began to hum under his breath. He could almost hear the melody of one his two favorite songs, and he began to sing, 

 

 _"Leaves are falling all around_    
_It's time I was on my way_    
_Thanks to you I'm much obliged_    
_For such a pleasant stay_    
_But now it's time for me to go_    
_The autumn moon lights my way_    
_For now I smell the rain_    
_And with it pain_    
_And it's headed my --"_  

 

"Stop!" Lorne's cry interrupted him. 

Dean opened his eyes. The demon stood behind the bar almost shaking, it had gone from a vibrant tree frog green to a pale puke green. It grabbed the forgotten mimosa and downed it like a drunk at last call. Then it focused its bright red eyes on Dean. 

"Oh, Crumbles, Spike's really not going to be happy. It's only Monday. This kinda trouble? We save for Tuesdays." 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dean's song - I had him sing Zepplin's "Ramble On" in episode 4x18 he says his favorite song is tied between that one and Zepplin's "Traveling Riverside Blues"


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was actually supposed to be part of the previous chapter. Anyway, enjoy. Remember, kudos and comments are like chocolate for my muse.

_Dean opened his eyes. The demon stood behind the bar almost shaking, it had gone from a vibrant tree frog green to a pale puke puce. It grabbed the forgotten Mimosa and downed it like a drunk at last call. Then it focused its bright red eyes on Dean._

_"Oh, crumbles, Spike's not going to be happy. It's only Monday. This kinda trouble? We save for Tuesdays."_

****************************************************************************************************************************

Angel paced across the length of Spike’s suite. It was his tenth pass and as with the previous nine passes as he crossed in front of Xander there was the sound of hissing in stereo. One was louder than the other. It originated from the lean tabby with silver stripes and a long tail was curled up in Xander’s lap. The other, quieter one, came from Spike. Angel rolled his eyes as the other vampire and the feline glanced at each other. The cat flipped the tip of its tail and the blonde gave an almost imperceptible nod of his head.

“For...I’m not going to hurt Xander!” Angel growled in exasperation.

“Claimant Xander,” Spike corrected as the cat made an elaborate stretch with his paw displaying all his claws. “And will ya cop a squat! Don’t fancy ya wearin’ a hole in my carpet.”

Xander made a muffled sound as if stifling a giggle from his spot at Spike’s feet.

“What’s taking so long?” Angel snapped as he stomped over to a couch and flopped down. “Thought you said the Pocklas had taken care of him.”

“Flounce much, ya ponce?” Spike said shaking his head while gently rubbing the back of Xander’s neck.

Angel glared at his the younger vampire.

“Oi! The healer demons stitched the hunter up good and proper. Tucked him in and even read him a bedtime story. He’s fine.” Spike glared back.

“Then why-”

“Maybe he's taking a long morning du-”

Xander let out a loud cough interrupting Spike. “Master!”

“Oh what, l have ta live with yer human functions but I can’t talk about them?” Spike glanced at Xander.

Xander shook his head. “I know the bleaching process puts a strain on your brain cells, but remember that talk we had about crude language?”

“Pet!” Spike’s popped his mouth open and narrowed his eyes. He leaned forward for a moment then burst out laughing. “Yer tryin’ too hard.  I ain’t always gonna punish ya like I did last night.”

“Can’t blame a guy for trying,” Xander winked at Spike.

“Do you two need a moment alone?” Angel groaned.

“How about a decade?” Spike pointed toward the other side of the suite. “There’s the door.”

“And what about Dean?” Angel asked.

Spike shrugged. “You can take him with ya.”

Xander leaned back against the blond vampire’s legs and tilted his head back to stare up at him. “Master, we promised.”

“Don’t remember making it a promise, pet.” Spike leaned down pressing a light kiss to Xander’s lips. “But if it’s what you want.”

Angel stood up and started to pace again. It wasn’t that he feared for Dean’s safety in Vegas, he knew the hunter was under Spike’s protection and no one would dare cross him. It was just that the longer it took for Dean to get to the suite and the longer it took to begin to find answers to why Crowley was after the Winchester brothers.

Worse, the longer it meant he was alone in the company of Spike and Xander. The things he had done to them as Angelus made that nearly impossible. His soul was wracked with guilt, and the demon trapped inside of him was replaying the memories like a private film festival in his brain. _Despite the show they are putting on, it can’t be easy for them either._

As Angel made his eleventh pass, heard the hisses again, he glanced at the couple. In his mind he saw Spike using Xander in a cruel pantomime, a show meant to fool and entertain Angelus. He saw Xander, naked and kneeling in front of him, as he taunted the human with stories of how he’d killed his friends. Even more heartbreaking to the elder vampire, he remembered using Spike brutally as punishment for not letting Angelus have Xander. Sadly, it wasn’t the first time Angelus had raped and beaten his one time protege.

 _I made him what he is!_ The demon practically glowed with pride. _NO! You made him a monster, Spike made himself what he is: a hero. He didn’t have to be cursed to get his soul back, he fought for it, and with it he beat you!_

Angel paused and took a moment to relish the demon’s howl of disappointment and rage. While Angel had no part in what Spike had done for himself and the world, he was proud of the other vampire. Better yet, he loved that he could torment Angelus with his Spike's accomplishments.

Lost in his inner turmoil, Angel almost missed the sound of steps approaching the suite door. He looked up just before a knock.

“Enter!” Spike said no doubt catching the same scents Angel had; Lorne and Dean.

The door swung open. Dean stepped inside his hands deceptively at rest by his side, but his eyes swiftly scanned the room taking stock of the occupants, exits, and any potential threats. Lorne followed and Angel pushed back the demon’s memories and his soul’s guilt. The empath demon was not smiling. Something was very wrong.

 

SPIKE TOOK ONE look at Lorne and was ready to grab Xander, the cat, the DeSoto keys, and make a strategic exit back to the old ghost town in the desert that the resistance had used during The Fall. He and his pet had done their part playing the white hats, taking on the big bads, and nearly losing their lives and souls in the process. _Let some other knobber save the world!_

Then he felt the slight brush of a hand against his ankle. He looked down at his feet, Xander was staring at him with those big brown eyes. In them shown not only all the courage he associated with his pet, but all the love and trust Spike had some how managed to earn.

The vampire brushed a finger down Xander’s cheek. His Claimaint didn’t have to be at his feet or call Spike, “Master,” not here in their private rooms. _Not anymore and especially not in front of Angel!_ The elder vampire didn’t deserve the respect  Xander shown by observing demon rules in front of the sodding bastard. Yet, Spike knew why his human did it. Xander wasn’t showing Angel deference, he was broadcasting loud and clear to the old wanker that Spike had earned what Angelus never could; Xander’s obedience and loyalty.

“At least hear what Lorne has to say, before you start making plans to throw me over your shoulder and lock me away somewhere in an some overly romantic, but totally unnecessary attempt to keep me safe,“ Xander said softly and flashing a crooked smile.

Spike returned the smile. “Ya know me too well, luv.”

“What can I say?” Xander replied ushering Ante, the cat out his lap, and slowly getting to his feet. He perched his butt on the side of Spike’s chair. “I’m an expert when it comes to bad boy blond vampires who run demon cities.”

“Right? So am I here to see Spike the Master of Las Vegas or did I just wander into some sort of reboot of Dark Shadows, cuz this shit could not get any more like a bad soap opera.”

“Oi! It ain’t too late to throw you in the arenas for a few bouts! Could make some decent dosh and have some fun watchin’ demons punch that mouth of yers shut for a spell.” Spike growled at the hunter standing just inside the doorway.

The hunter smiled, it was slow, easy, and deceptive. It was meant to charm, but it was all predatory and full of promise the human could back up. “They could try.”

“Spike,” Angel said stepping quickly in between the two. “Not helping. Remember, that’s what we came here for? Your help?”

“Lookin’ at Lorne, not sure I want to give it anymore,” Spike grumbled casting a glance at his floor manager who was making his way over to Spike bar.

“Oh trust me, lemon drop, you are gonna wanna help because I don’t think there’s anyplace you can hide from this,”  Lorne said pulling out a bottle of cranberry juice.

“Lemon drop?” Angel and Dean said at the same time.

Spike glared at them.

“Lorne?” Xander asked., “What’s going on buddy?”

Lorne pulled out a bottle of vodka and a tumbler. “I don’t have details but it’s big, like cosmically big, like...Powers That Be big.”

“Right, grab the cat and I’ll bring the car round back,” Spike said to Xander as he stood up and started patting his coat down looking for his keys.

“Spike-” Xander began to protest.

The blond vampire turned and looked at Xander. “Did you hear him, pet? Powers That Be! Do you even know what that means?”

“I don’t,” the hunter interrupted before Xander could answer.

Angel turned toward Dean. “It means...well forces that wield more than just magic. They’re-”

“Powers That Be,” Spike growled. “Things that can grant visions of the future. Hell, they can make the future. If there’s a counterbalance to hell, then they’re it.”

“You mean like...heaven?” Dean asked

Lorne plunked a few ice cubes into his glass and poured two fingers worth of vodka. “You tell us, crumbles, you’re the one bound to one.”

“What?” the hunter and both vampires yelled in unison.

Lorne added a splash of cranberry to his drink. “And that’s only part of the story.”

“Wait, whoa!” Dean said holding up his hand. “What do you mean I’m _bound_ to something? And how the hell do you think you know this?”

“You’re tied to something. Like a bond. It’s a strong one, and _you_ don’t have to be an empath demon like me to feel it. Though it does help,” Lorne said taking a sip out of his glass and swallowing. “It’s like a pulse and I’m reading that...well there’s something more behind it. Some...plan.”

Angel looked at Dean and back at Lorne. “What kind of plan?”

“Oh, the usual, end of the world...apocalyptic kind of plan,” Lorne said before downing the rest of his drink.

“You got all of that from a song?” Dean scoffed.

Spike stalked over toward Dean. Hunter boy was wearing out his welcome.  “Lorne’s never wrong with his readings, now start talking.”

“About what?” Dean asked taking a step back, his hands curling lightly into fists.

Angel put his hand out toward Spike’s chest, but not touching the other vampire. “Let him explain”

Dean shook his head. “I don’t know what Kermit over there is talking about.”

“Don’t you?” Angel asked.

“No I do-” Dean started to say when Lorne slammed his empty glass down on the counter.

“Roll up your sleeve and show them, crumbles.” Lorne pointed at Dean’s shoulder.

Spike looked back at Lorne. If the vampire was anxious before, he was positively ready to crawl out of skin now. He was the one with low impulse control, not Lorne.

“Dean?” Xander said softly from behind Spike.

_When had his pet moved?_

The hunter glanced around. He was flanked by two vampires and one human. He narrowed his eyes and swore under his breath as he started tugging at his sleeve.

Spike put out a hand behind him, pushing Xander back as he watched Dean roll up his sleeve. He wasn’t sure if the hunter was going to sprout a tentacle, burst into flames, or even just turn a lovely shade lavender, but whatever was going to happen he didn’t want Xander to have front row seats for the show.

“There isn’t anything here but a scar. We gonna start comparing ‘em?” Dean asked as he gave a final jerk to his sleeve and revealing raised pink fleshy tissue in the shape of a handprint on his shoulder.

Immediately the demon inside of Spike began to twist and squirm. It wasn’t as if it were in pain as much as if it were near something unpleasant. It was like some sort of supernatural itch or allergic reaction.

“Fuck!” the hunter yelled throwing up his fists and backing towards the door.

“Spike! No need for fang face!” Xander cried slipping in front of the vampire and between Dean. “Angel!”

Spike looked at Xander then glanced at his grandsire. Angel’s fangs were out, his eyes were beastly yellow, and his forehead ridged. As Spike studied Angel only then did he realize he too was in his vampire visage.  

“What is that?” Spike asked looking at Dean.

Dean shook his head. “What? No, I ain’t answering any questions while you two are going Lost Boys on me.”

“It’s ok,” Angel said taking a couple of steps back away from the hunter. He gave a couple of shakes of his head, and his face changed back to looking human.

Spike’s demon was still twitchy, but he’d be damned all over again if he let it look like Angel had more self-control. The younger vampire also took a few steps back, then focused on shifting his facial features.

“Dean,” Xander said softly turning to face the hunter. “What...where did you get that?”

Once again the hunter cast eyes around the room. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I honestly don’t know.”

Spike looked at Lorne. The green demon held out his hand palm down and rocked it side to side. _Yeah, hunter boy might not know how, but he ain’t tellin’ everything he knows._

“You have to have some idea,” Xander said. “I mean you didn’t just wake up one day with it.”

Dean laughed. It was more of a croaking sound, and it certainly didn’t seem he was amused. “Actually, that’s exactly what I did.”

“What happened before you woke up?” Angel asked. “Where were you?”

“No!” the hunter barked out swiftly. “Look, this whole topic is irrelevant. All I want to do is find my brother Sam. Are you going to help me or not? Cuz, if not, I’m outta here.”

Lorne fished for something out of the refrigerator under the bar. “Crumbles, _this_ is us helping you find your brother. It’s all tied together.”

“How?” Dean asked watching as Lorne began to line up beer bottle on the counter.

The green demon shrugged. “I..we don’t know yet. Not until you start giving us some answers.”

“So quit playing like it’s a first date and talk,” Spike said. “Where were ya when someone slapped you on the shoulder and marked you their’s so hard it makes my fangs twitch?”

  



	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long delay in updates. Have been caught up in writing another fanfic (darkfic), "Bound By The Life Left Behind" Anyway, finally an update to this one!

_“No!”the hunter barked out swiftly. “Look, this whole topic is irrelevant. All I want to do is find my brother Sam. Are you going to help me or not? Cuz, if not, I’m outta here.”_

_Lorne fished for something out of the refrigerator under the bar. “Crumbles, this is us helping you find your brother. It’s all tied together.”_

_“How?” Dean asked watching as Lorne began to line up beer bottle on the counter._

_The green demon shrugged. “I..we don’t know yet. Not until you start giving us some answers.”_

_“So quit playing like it’s a first date and talk,” Spike said. “Where were ya when someone slapped you on the shoulder and marked you their’s so hard it makes my fangs twitch?”_

**************************************************************************************************************************

“Ready for your walk?” Ruby said dangling a leash in front of Sam’s face.

Sam glared at her. “Screw you.”

“Puppy’s in a bad mood.” She pouted as she bent down and clipped the leash to the leather collar that she’d secured around his neck her second visit. She glanced over her shoulder at the two demons Sam thought of as Frick and Frack and nodded.

They stepped forward.

At this point, Sam knew what to expect. They would grab his arms and bind them together at the forearms with leather cuffs before freeing his wrist from the manacle. Then they’d haul him to his feet, leaving his ankles chained together with just enough lead in the chain between them to take a half step. Then, Ruby would tug on the lead, forcing him to follow or fall on his face.

The first time they’d come for him, Sam had fought. It only managed to reopen the wounds on his wrist and amuse the goons. In the end, Ruby had led him out of his cell, down the hall, and to a bathroom. The struggle might have done the Winchester name proud, but it had accomplished nothing and only delayed him access to something he’d really needed anyway.

This time, the younger Winchester didn’t struggle. He let the demons manhandle him until he was secure, then he stood up.

“Don’t tell me you’re housebroken already?” Ruby purred.

“Can we just get this over with?” Sam snapped, then winced as a demon smacked the back of his head.

Ruby shook her head. “I don’t think he likes you.”

“The feeling’s mutual,” Sam said craning his head to look behind him to get a good look at the demon. It was Frick. He had red hair, a thick beard, looked to be about two fifty, and was about three inches shorter than Sam. Though, most people were.

Sam might be the younger of the Winchester, but he was the taller. At six feet four inches, and weighing about two twenty, Sam Winchester was an imposing figure when he wanted to be.

“You can measure your dicks later,” Ruby said tugging on Sam’s leash. “Right now, I have orders to take you to the can, make sure you do your thing, and get you back here. It’s not like I like being on bitch patrol.”

The two demons chuckled as Sam stumbled forward following Ruby. Sam did his best to ignore him as they fell in behind him, still chortling.

The route to the bathroom from his cell was short, but it seemed interminable as each step required concentration. Sam had to be both quick enough to keep up with Ruby’s pace while at the same time measuring his gait so his stride didn’t overextend his bindings. Either scenario would send him tumbling face first to the stone floor.

As they approached the door to the small bathroom Ruby suddenly stopped and turned toward Sam.

Swearing under his breath, the young Winchester managed to lurch to a stop without tripping. He glared at Ruby.

She flashed him a slow predatory smile before looking at Frick and Frack. “Okay boys, you wait outside. If I’m stuck on puppy patrol, and least I’m gonna teach him some tricks.”

“Boss said-” the black haired demon, Frack, began to speak before Ruby cut him off.

“I know what Crowley ordered! Trust me I ain’t gonna hurt the merchandise.” She focused her attention back on Sam, this time slowly stroking her free hand down his chest.

Sam gave a warning growl.

She laughed and looked him in the eye. “Well, maybe I should rephrase that. I ain’t gonna _damage_ the merchandise.” Then she turned back toward the door, opened it and yanked on Sam’s lead.

He shuffled forward into the small room past her and nearly bumped into the sink. He turned in time to see her step inside and close the door. Last time he’d been let into this room he’d been left alone to somehow fumble open his pants and relieve himself. It had been awkward with his bindings and injuries, but he done it. He’d even had time to survey the room, look for anything helpful, but it was useless.

It was a small mold green tiled bathroom consisting of a tiny sink with exposed pipes underneath. To the right of the sink was a rust-stained toilet. Opposite of both was an equally rust stained shower stall with a dried and crack half bar of soap wedged onto the metal soap dish. Hanging from a thin metal tube in front of the stall from clear plastic hooks was a thin yellow vinyl shower curtain. There were no mirrors or towels in the room.

“What the hell, Ruby?” Sam snapped.

“Keep your voice down,” she hissed stepping into his personal space, practically pressing their bodies together. “Needed cover so we could talk.”

“Seems we’ve been doing just fine back in the cell.” Sam tried to back up, but there was nowhere to go. The sink was already pressing into the small of his back.

“Yeah, and we can be watched there too.” Ruby let go of his lead and placed both hands on his chest and stared up at him.

He glanced at her hands and then scowled at her. “And this is talking how?”

“Don’t be such a prude, Sam.” She rolled her eyes then sighed. “Right, so have you given it any more thought?”

“What?” he asked bringing up his arms to try and trying to shove her back a step.

She cocked an eyebrow at him and pressed closer, using her demonic strength to ignore his attempts to dislodge her. “You know about what. Time’s running out, and so are your options.”

Sam grunted, frustrated at his inability to move the slim demon. He dropped his arms and glared at her. “How do I know that? I only have your word.”

“You know, I’m getting really tired of your suspicious attitude!” she seethed. “I have been over backward trying to prove myself to you. Time and time I put myself at risk, and I’m still doing it. When are you going to cut me some slack?”

“And look at it from my point of view,” Sam bristled. “You’re a demon. One of the things that once enslaved this world, torturing and killing people. Your kind lie. You deceive and you make deals to get what you want, to corrupt people and what you are proposing sounds pretty damned corrupting!”

“What I’m proposing is a way to save your ass, but hey, if you want to wait around until Crowley hands you over to Lil...collects on his bounty, fine by me.” Ruby took a step back. She looked him up and down. “You’ll make a nice meat suit for someone.”

Sam growled and leaned his head back. He didn’t want to admit she was right, that his options were limited. Nor did he want to need her! Yet, deep down he knew what she was saying was true. He was trapped, Dean was missing, and apparently, the only ally he had the at the moment was Ruby.

He sighed, lifting his head. He looked at her. The last time he’d been separated from Dean, she’d been there. Sam was too smart not for that to set off all sorts of alarm bells. Yet, she’d proven herself. She’d armed him, fought beside him, and even saved his neck a few times. Her reason? She said not all demons wanted to see the world burn. Maybe that was true, maybe it wasn’t. However, she’d never done anything to give him reason to doubt her. _Other than being a demon. Oh, and that nagging pitch she had._

“Sam?” she entreated.

He studied her, remembering back when they first met. About a year after the Fall when he and Dean had been separated. Sam had been stupid and pigheaded. Dean had had a lead on dad, and Sam had a lead on a resistance cell. They’d argued and Sam had stormed off insisting the resistance needed them far more than dad.

Only Sam had never found the resistance. Instead, he’d been captured by a demon called Meg. He’d been held bound and helpless, as she’d crooned and taunted him that her daddy would be so pleased with her, once he was done killing John and Dean Winchester. Sam had been nearly crazed, tugging at the ropes around his wrists until they bled, screaming at the demoness, and she’d only teased him about having doubts he was the ‘golden boy’ her daddy believed him to be.

That’s when Ruby had shown up. Busting in, swinging her blade, killing Meg’s minions and nearly killing her. In the end, Ruby had freed Sam, helping him escape and even helping him find his father. Only it had been too late. John Winchester was dead, and there’d been no sign of Dean. Sam had been nearly out of his mind, and that’s when Ruby had made her first pitch. Had told him what Meg had meant about him being her daddy’s ‘golden boy’ and that if he embraced it, he could use it to find Dean.

“SAM!” Ruby yelled.

“What?” Sam snapped focusing his attention back to the here and now.

She sighed and stepped close to him again. This time she laid a gentle palm to the side of his face. “She can get her hands on you. Do you think she’ll give you a choice? She’ll turn you into a weapon Sam. Is that what you want?”

“But what you’re asking me to do, Ruby…” Sam stared at her fighting back against the hopeless feeling rising inside of him. “There has to be another way.”

She shook her head. “Do the math. C’mon you’re the smart one, Sam. Dean could never add up the numbers like this but you can.”

“How do you even know it will work?” Sam asked, struggling to hold on to the last arguments he had.

“Because it has to,” she said before suddenly wincing as she bit down on the inside of her cheek. She smiled at him. “Now kiss me.”

“What?”

She leaned up on her tippy toes and snaked her arms up around the back of his neck pulling him down to her.  She ghosted her lips over his and whispered, “We’ll start off slow.”

As she pressed her lips to his, Sam leaned into her, acquiescing to her touch. Her lips were warmer than he expected, gentler too. They were soft and coaxing. Tentatively he opened his mouth, inviting her to deepen the kiss, even as a part of him still doubted her.

Her tongue swept inside, dancing across his. He moaned at the sudden sensation as well as the taste that exploded in his mouth. It was hot, metallic, with something else underneath.

_Blood!_

He tried to pull back, but her grip on him tightened. She clung to him with her inhuman strength, keeping her mouth locked on his as she deepened the kiss forcing more of the blood from her bleeding cheek inside of him.

As the acrid taste continued to fill him, Sam struggled. Yet, at the same time, it sparked something inside of him. There was something familiar about it. It was like a part of him recognized the flavor, like a dog scenting its old master.

Suddenly he needed more! He stopped fighting Ruby’s hold and leaned into it. His tongue fought dominance with her’s until he won and invaded her mouth. He sought out the bite on her cheek and began to lap at it.

It was Ruby’s turn to moan as she melded her body against his.

Heat flared through Sam and as he began to feed off the meager blood inside Ruby’s mouth, he ground against her.

 

***

“NO!” Dean backed away toward the door and away from the vampires. He wasn’t doing this. He didn’t owe the bloodsuckers anything, least of all details about the parts of his life he’s spent more than a year drowning under cheap booze and even cheaper women.

‘No?” Spike snarled dashing forward with vampiric speed and coiling a hand around Dean’s forearm.

The hunter growled and twisted, using his momentum and other arm to break the vampire’s hold. Dean dropped down low and swung a leg out to clip Spike behind the ankle, knocking the Master of Vegas of his feet.

“SPIKE!” Xander and Angel yelled out in unison as the blond vampire roared.

Dean turned, quickly looking for anything to use as a makeshift weapon. Not seeing anything he spun back around and saw Xander reaching for the Spike. _His pet!_ Dean charged forward, reaching for Xander when something hard and unyielding slammed into him from the side.

Cursing, Dean twisted and jabbed his elbow into the hard mass suddenly crowding him. It was Angel.

The dark-haired vampire grunted and shoved Dean.

The hunter stumbled. Trying to get his feet under him and ready for a counterattack. However, before he could, the older vampire charged him against sending him crashing into the wall.  Arms which felt like iron bars held him, one pinning him across the chest.

“Let me go!” Dean snarled and struggling, his green eyes staring into the depths of Angel’s dark brown.

Leaning into the hunter, the vampire used his entire body to hold Dean to the wall. “Calm down.”

“I’m gonna gut him!” Spike yelled, charging up from behind.

“Spike-” Xander began reaching out for the other vampire.

The blond whirled around and looked at the other human. “He _reached_ for you! Ya think I’m just gonna give that a pass?”

“Let go of me,” Dean’s voice was soft and low as he continued to keep his focus on Angel. He could only deal with one vampire at a time, and the more pressing problem was the one who was holding him immobile.

Angel stared back. For a moment Dean thought he saw the vampire’s eyes flash gold, and it was as if something else dark and dangerous took brief control. It sent a chill down Dean’s spine. Then the moment past. The vampire didn’t let up on Dean, but somehow the Winchester brother felt a little safer. If that were possible.

“Stand down, Spike,” Angel grunted without taking his eyes off Dean.

“You are giving orders in my city?” Spike snapped.

Angel sighed. “No, I’m trying to diffuse a situation.”

“The situation will be _diffused_ when I rip his head off.” Spike’s head appeared over Angel’s shoulder. The blond was in full vampire visage.

Dean shifted his focus to the Master of Vegas. _On second thought, maybe this wasn’t one of my better plans._

“Spike,” Xander called again. “I really hate to agree with deadboy, but…”

The blond vampire looked over his shoulder back toward the other human. “Pet?”

“Look, give me a chance to talk to him?”

Dean now shifted his eyes toward Xander. _Talk?_ _What could the sellout and I have to chat about?_ Then the hunter looked between the two vampires. Still, it might him a chance to get some space between them. Plus, giving him access to leverage.

The hunter studied the other human. While the other man was tall and well proportioned, there was something about the way he moved that read he didn’t get those muscles from fighting. He lacked a certain fluidity and confidence in his movements. Dean was sure he could take him in a fight, and given how Spike doted on his pet, the hunter could use that to his advantage.

“No,” Spike said flatly.

“It might not be a bad idea,” the green demon suddenly piped in.

Dean cast his eyes briefly to the side. It was leaning against the bar with a red-tinted drink in its hand.

“Why?” Spike asked.

“They’re both human,” Lorne answered. “Dean has no reason to listen to or to trust us. We’re demons and monsters. But Claimant Xander…”

“He doesn’t trust Xander,” Angel interjected his eyes still fixed on Dean. “He sees him as something to use against us...Spike.”

Dean focused his attention back on the dark-haired vampire, narrowing his eyes. _How did he know?_

“It’s how I’d read the situation,” Angel whispered as he leaned forward just a little answering the hunter’s unasked question.

“Yeah? Well, read this!” Dean growled before banging his forehead into the bridge of the vampire’s nose. He’d be damned again if he’d let Angel think he could get a bead on him.

Angel howled and Spike guffawed.

Xander yelled, “Dean!”

“You’re not too bright are ya, boy?” Angel snapped his arm pressing painfully against Dean’s chest making it hard for the hunter to breath.

“Smart….enough...to outwit you!” Dean huffed.

A slow smile spread across Angel’s face a moment as he leaned forward, his mouth hovering near Dean’s neck. Then suddenly he shook himself and stepped back, releasing the hunter. “You’re not even smart enough to know what game you’re playing.”

Dean watched the older vampire withdraw, sagging against the wall and shuddering as he gulped a breath of air.

Spike rushed forward only to stop abruptly as Xander laid a hand on his shoulder. “Please, Spike. Let me talk to him. C’mon, you know no one can resist the Xanman’s babble”

The blond vampire paused studying the human for a moment before tension bled out of his body. “Even ‘Gelus was never cruel enough to use it.”

Xander smiled and kissed the vampire’s cheek.

Dean’s stomach soured. How could the guy do that? Kiss a corpse? The hunter looked away.

“So uhm...Dean,” Xander said stepping forward. “So maybe we try this again. Do this a little differently.”

The Winchester brother straightened and looked back at Xander who was making shooing motions behind his back. Dean watched as the two vampires withdrew to the far side of the room.

“My name is Xander...Harris,” the other man said holding out his hand.

Dean bit back a laugh. The guy wanted to shake hands? “You know who I am.”

“Yeah, Dean Winchester,” Xander said withdrawing his hand. “You’re one of two guys who got the drop on Captain Broody. Thumbs up on that by the way.”

Dean tilted his head in confusion.

“Angel?” Xander jerked his head toward the dark-haired vampire. “You know tall and gloomy with the perfect hair?”

This was not how pet humans talked about vampires, especially ones like Angelus. “What’s your angle?”

Xander smiled. “No angle, just...trying take a little of the 'grrr argh' out of the situation before things go unnecessarily fubar.”

“Well, it’s a little late for that. Look, if you want everyone to get along and sing Kumbaya...then the only way that’s gonna happen is if your _master_ over there lets me walk out the door right now.”

“And if I did, and you walked,” Xander said, “how would that help you find your brother?”

“You let me worry about my brother!” Dean pointed his finger at Xander. “I didn’t ask to come here, and I didn’t ask for your _master’s_ help.”

“True,” Xander said softly, “but be that as it may, Spike can help you and even if you don’t want that help, you need it.”

“I don’t need help from monsters,” Dean spit.

“You do when you are tethered to something tied to the Powers That Be,” Xander said frankly.

“Says him!” Dean jerked his thumb toward Lorne. “A monster.”

“Lorne may be a demon, but that doesn’t mean he’s wrong. C’mon Dean, tell me you don’t sense there’s something weird about that scar on your arm. I mean, it’s handprint! Who wakes up with a handprint on their arm?”

 _Me._ Dean glared at the other human. He hated that the guy had a point. “I don’t care! What I care about is Sam.”

Xander rolled his eyes. “And don’t you think there’s a connection? You’re bound to some cosmic entity and you find that the King of Hell is trying to collect on you and your brother. You don’t think there might be some chance there’s a connection there? I mean, hey, I know I was always the guy one recess away from the short bus but even I can figure that one out.”

 _What?_ Dean stared at Xander for a moment then shook his head. “Even if I thought you were right, why would I trust a couple of vampires, one who actually ended the world once before, to help?”

“Hey, I never said trust, Angel.” Xander took a step forward and dropped his voice. “Spike though, you can trust.”

“Why? Because he’s your post-apocalyptic sugar daddy?” Dean snapped.

Xander shook his head then locking his gaze with Dean’s, his chocolate brown eyes heavy with emotion. “When the world fell I was with the resistance. I fought monsters before the Fall. Heck, believe it or not, I fought Spike _and_ Angel. Granted my contribution was more like the body to get tossed before the real fighters got their shot, but the point is, I stood up to the monsters. I was just a kid. No special skills. No magic. Just…”

Xander’s voice trailed away for a second.  Dean tried to process the words. What had Xander meant? Had he been a hunter? Or known hunters? He glanced briefly at Spike and Angel. They too were focused on Xander, as if remembering.

“I was there Angelus sent the world to Hell,” Xander continued.

Dean locked his eyes back on the other man. _What?_

“Well not...there there, but…” Xander shook his head. “What I mean was, I lost people that day who tried to stop him. I failed in my part to try and stop him.”

“You?” Dean let the question slip out.

“I wasn’t alone. I was with friends and we were part of the resistance after the Fall,” Xander said pushing through. “Only, like I said. I was never really that good at fighting and one day...I got caught.”

“By Spike?” Dean huffed suddenly putting all the pieces together. The blond vampire must have tortured the kid into some sort of Stockholm Sy-

“No,” Xander said swiftly. “I wish. No, I uh…”

Once again the human paused. He took a stuttering deep breathe.

“Xander,” Spike called softly moving forward. “You don’t owe this ponc-”

Xander waved his hand at Spike, silencing him and focused on Dean. “I ended up with an Azora demon.”

Dean paled and took a half step back. _Shit!_ He looked Xander up and down. He’d heard tales of the Azora’s, of what they kept humans for, specifically human males. They…milked them. Dean’s stomach twisted.

“I see you’ve heard of them,” Xander said with a wry smile.

Dean’s eyes narrowed. There was a flaw in Xander’s story. “Azora’s make their ‘bottle’s’ mute.”

Xander flinched and Spike growled.

“Yeah, they do after the first...tapping.” Xander wrapped his arms around himself. “That’s how...when Spike won me I was mute.”

“Wait.. _won_ you?” Dean asked holding up his hand in confusion.

Xander nodded. “I was part of pot in a poker game. Just, something for the demon to gamble with. When Spike won me, I thought I was dead and I have to tell you I was….grateful.”

Dean shot a look at the blond vampire. His eyes were fixed on Xander.

“Only he didn’t kill me. He...did everything in his power to...well to fix me,” Xander said.

“Including giving you your voice back?” Dean asked.

“Actually that was Angelus, but I think he was hoping the ‘cure’ was going to kill me instead. It nearly did.”

Dean shifted his gaze to Angel. The vampire’s head hung low.

“So what? I should trust Spike because...he fixed you?” Dean asked.

“You should trust Spike because while he was helping, he was also in the middle of a long game against Angelus. Look around Dean, how do you think the world got righted again?”

“The resistance.”

“And Spike was part of that it.”

“Bullshit!”

“It’s the truth!” Xander said taking another step forward. “Look at me, Dean. Spike is a vampire. He can be cruel, but I can take you downstairs and show you a wing of women and children who wouldn’t be here if weren’t for him. He protected them and helped them just as he helped me, as he helped the world. Like he can help you.”

“Why?” Dean asked. “Why would a soulless monster do that? Vampires are just another form of demons.”

Xander shrugged. “Maybe because not all demons are alike? Besides, right now you are alone and he...we are offering you help. However, you gotta start working with us. Tell us about the mark. Tell us...about your deal.”

Dean stared at the other man. He’d really laid it out on the line, bared himself. Humans who’d been owned by demons and lived to tell about it, they bore scars on their soul, ones that could be seen in the eyes. Dean could see them in Xander’s when he spoke about the Azora.

He turned and faced the wall. Fuck! How could he do this? He hadn’t even told Sammy.

“I...woke up with it after I…” Dean tried to get the words out. They didn’t want to come he dug down deep and forced them. “I used to belong to a demon called Alistair.”


End file.
